


Cuddle Huddle(s)

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [59]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Self-indulgent "Molly gets hurt" and everyone hugs.





	Cuddle Huddle(s)

“That’s it, Mollymauk,” Caleb’s voice is far away, the edge of hysteria that Molly knows and hates barely wrangled on the cusp of each word, “Just breathe. It is, everything, is okay.”   
Molly knows that Caleb is lying. Caleb knows that Caleb is lying. He keeps his shaking hands moving in as slow, steady strokes as he can manage, his fingers card through Molly’s hair, damp with sweat and matted in places with blood. Molly wants to turn onto his side and curl into a ball, but if he did that, Caleb might be upset. Because presently, Molly is on his back with his head in Caleb’s lap, Jester and Yasha at either side of him gently pressing and stitching his body back together, Nott, Beau, and Fjord are huddled together at his feet. From his blurred view of the situation, it seems that Fjord and Nott are fighting to hold Beau back.   
“Caleb?” He tilts his head back to meet Caleb’s eyes, and the world around him swims. Caleb forces a smile for him, nods,   
“I’m here.”   
“Just breathe.” Molly croaks, but his tone is calm and he smiles, lifts a hand toward Caleb’s face and his fingertips tremble, he sets his fingers to Caleb’s cheek. The other hand drifts up his body and settles over the place that his necklaces usually rest.   
“The periapt.” He says, and he can’t struggle but the desire to do so is in his eyes and voice, “My necklace.”   
Caleb’s forced smile turns semi-genuine and wry,   
“Ripped off. You have some nasty marks on your neck.”   
“Where- where are they?” The fingers at Caleb’s cheek press, and Caleb lays a hand over the top, pressing Molly’s whole hand to his cheek and holding it still.   
Molly’s hands are so, so cold. Scarily so. He’s cold at the best of times but this, now, he’s cold as  _ death _ .   
Nott, at Molly’s feet, takes one hand from Beau’s thigh to dip into her pocket and shake the broken necklaces, they jingle lightly in her hands. He doesn’t look to her, but he knows the sound his jewellery makes when they clatter together and relaxes, visibly.   
“If you were still wearing the periapt,” Caleb breaks up his broken-voiced sentence by pressing a kiss to the palm of Molly’s hand, “We would not be as worried as we are.”   
“You can give him the potion, now.” Jester sits back on her heels and wipes her brow. Yasha’s hands stay on the displayed skin of Molly’s torso, trembling even though they’re at rest.   
Fjord finally releases Beau and she stills herself as she decides, momentarily, whether to go to Molly, or to Yasha.   
She settles on the side of Yasha closest to Molly’s face, he feels fingertips rest lightly next to Yasha’s on his skin and tilts.   
“Don’t die on me.” Beau tells him seriously, above him, Caleb is fiddling with the cork of the bottle he’s holding. Molly smiles, weak but real, and reaches to her with the hand from his chest. She threads her fingers with his and her grip is painfully tight.   
“Oh, you care about me.” Molly teases, _manages_ to tease before Caleb is tilting his head again and there’s the burn of a healing potion flowing into his mouth that only skills in other areas allows him to swallow without choking. Caleb’s eyebrows raise, a little.   
“A talent I’m sure I’ll find out more about.”   
Molly’s tongue flickers at the corner of his mouth, catching the last couple of droplets that Caleb’s shaking hands had lost.   
Beau leans down and rests her head somewhere near Molly’s ribs, he thinks, there’s some solid bone under her forehead and he feels her shaking. One of Yasha’s hands lifts from Molly to stroke circles into Beau’s back, she mumbles and placates her under her breath, it’s not enough. Caleb leans down, first to press a kiss to Molly’s lips, then to whisper,    
“Do you think that you can sit?”   
“I think I’m ready to fight, if I’m honest.” Molly smiles, and Caleb’s shoulders drop as tension seeps away. Molly is out of the woods.   
With Caleb’s help and Yasha pulling Beau back, they manage to get Molly into a sitting position. Naturally, the first thing that he does isn’t to reciprocate Caleb’s kiss, but to pull Beau into a hug that she does, shockingly, reciprocate, her arms around his neck because it’s the best place to squeeze without risking re-injury. He huffs a laugh into her shoulder, almost amused, and expects a quick whack or a snap back but Beau remains still and silent in his arms.   
“Beau?” He asks, quietly, “You okay?”   
“Shut up.” Comes the gruff reply, “Don’t let go.”   
Caleb stands behind him and the group cleans around Molly and Beau, Fjord catches the collar Caleb’s jacket and pulls a quick choked noise from him that has Nott drawing her hand crossbow and lining it up with Fjord’s eyes.   
“It’s okay, Nott.” Caleb placates, waving, “Just inconvenient placement.”   
She keeps her eyes trained on Fjord as she plucks the bolt from the crossbow and replaces it in her pocket, lowers the crossbow, and finally, turns away.   
When she leaves, Caleb turns to Fjord and folds his arms, frowning,   
“A simple  _ Caleb _ would have gotten my attention.” He chastises, “I do not appreciate being choked.”   
“I don’t think Molly would agree with y’ there.” Fjord levels, deadpan, and Caleb flushes immediately, his mouth snaps shut, and he turns away to continue cleaning. Fjord rolls his eyes and says to his back, “We should really talk abou’ Beau, Caleb, any time soon.”   
  
Beau says nothing when she peels herself off of Molly, only goes to Yasha’s side and allows an arm to be thrown around her shoulders as she huddles closer.    
Molly ends up strung like christmas lights between Fjord and Caleb, one arm around both and sagging like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. Like the dirt is still there, smothering him, and he dips and droops. His eyelids are heavy, too.   
“None of that, now.” Fjord nips at the skin of Molly’s hip, his shirt lays in tatters on the floor from where Jester and Yasha had torn it off of his body. Molly shocks upright, his eyes open again, and Caleb turns to him sharply, too.    
“What are you doing?”   
“Falling asleep in your arms, darling.” Molly replies without skipping a beat, smiling, and Caleb frowns,   
“Save- save that for the bedroom,  _ ja _ ? I cannot have you passing out on us out here.”   
“I’ll try.” Molly replies, the flair disappears from his voice, dissipating into the air like steam from a rain-damp road in summer.

 

He holds it together until they’re on the river back to Zadash, eventually slumps against the boat and it’s left to Nott to hold onto his jacket and stop him slipping to the floor or off the side, Yasha focused on rowing, Caleb trying very, very hard to maintain his lights, it’s hard to keep your concentration on your magic when someone you’re in love with is limp in front of you. In the arms of your… mother figure? Sister figure? Nott? All of the above. Yasha keeps stealing glances over her shoulder, and Nott shoos at her until she turns away again. Beau has her forehead settled against Fjord’s shoulder blade, she could be crying or asleep, nobody can really tell.   
There’s a brief squabble at the inn, who gets Molly, and it was eventually settled that… everyone. Everyone will get Molly.   
The group beds down in Fjord’s room, Caleb, Fjord, and Molly take the bed, Nott sleeps under the window, Beau, Jester, and Yasha pile up at the foot of the bed in a cuddle huddle that can’t quite decide if it wants to be Beau- or Yasha-centric.

Molly wakes in the morning to Caleb curled up against his chest, Fjord pressed to his back, and arms slung over him every which way. He catches sight of a fluff of black-to-white hair from a pale arm over Caleb and knows,  _ Yasha _ , Jester’s tail is wound and tangled with his, And Beau, he finds, her entire body loosely splayed across himself, Caleb, and Yasha, mostly their legs, one hand tucked under Yasha’s on his hip. The only one missing is Nott, and he later sits up to find her perching on the windowsill, swaying with exhaustion and squinting to keep watch.

The group moves on as though nothing is new. They get up and clean up, Nott curls up to sleep beside Jester as the latter sits, cross-legged at the end of the bed and works at repairing Molly’s necklaces, a hint of tongue as she concentrates. Beau and Yasha spar in the empty space at the foot of the bed, Fjord plays referee to their battles.   
Molly settles his head in Caleb’s lap and breathes, deep, even.   
Fingers thread through his hair and Caleb smiles down, eyes sky-bright and filled with warmth.   
“Everything is okay.” He tells Molly, softly.   
This time, it’s the truth.


End file.
